


A Lesson in Etiquette

by TheTravelerWrites



Series: Monster Lovers: OkCryptid [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bad date, Exophilia, Human/Minotaur - Freeform, Human/Monster Romance, Minotaur - Freeform, Minotaur Boyfriend, OkCryptid, OkCryptid App, Other, Reader Insert, Reader-Insert, Teratophilia, human/monster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-02 23:32:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16796899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTravelerWrites/pseuds/TheTravelerWrites
Summary: A human meets another human on a monster dating app and decides to give it a shot, only to be horrified at his behavior toward service people, and decides to teach him a valuable lesson.





	A Lesson in Etiquette

You’d matched with Brian on the OkCryptid app, despite him also being human, and after chatting for a couple of weeks, you’d both agreed to meet at a local hybrid Italian/steakhouse place. It was nice choice for a first date; not too expensive, but the food was good and atmosphere was comfortable.

“Brian?” You asked as you walked up. He was tall and lean, with salt and pepper hair and stubble, greyish eyes, and a tan line on his neck where a necklace might have once sat. He wore a nice suit and an expensive watch. He was already seated when you arrived and he didn’t stand when he shook your hand, as he had already ordered a drink and an appetizer.

“Yep, that’s me,” He said with a grin. “You’re my date?” You nodded. “Nice to meet you finally. Please sit.” He gestured at the chair on the opposite side of him.

“Thanks,” you said, taking your seat. “I love this place, I’m glad you suggested it.”

“Yeah, it’s decent,” He said. “The service leaves a lot to be desired sometimes, but the food’s nice.”

You smiled, but his comment niggled the back of your mind.

“So you work in bonds?” He asked.

“Yeah, it’s not a glamorous job, but it’s good money,” You replied. “You?”

“I’m in real estate,” he replied. “House flipping. You can sink a lot of money into it, but it nets way more than you put into it if you do it right. It’s a lot of work, though.”

“I bet,” You said.

The waitress walked up just then with a glass and sat it in front of Brian, which you assumed was his refill. “Here you are, sir.” She then turned to you and said, “Hi, I’m Amanda, I’ll be your server. Can I get you a drink?”

“Yes, sweet tea, please,” You replied.

“I’ll be right back with that,” She said as she picked up Brian's empty glass. You thanked her. 

Brian picked up his glass, frowning, and called the waitress back.

“Hey, come back here,” He said.

Amanda was back at the table in a flash. “Is there something wrong?”

“Yeah, this glass is filthy,” Brian said, his voice condescending, holding the glass delicately by the rim with his thumb and middle finger. “Do you not have eyes? Did you not see the glass was dirty? This is disgraceful, I want to talk to your manager.”

You squinted and a saw a small smudge on the side of his glass that could have just been a fingerprint.

“I’m so sorry, sir, I’ll get you a fresh glass and call the manager over for you right away,” Amanda said, her cheeks flushing. She swiftly took the glass and shuffled off.

You stared at Brian in disbelief. “What the hell was that?”

“I know, right?” Brian said snidely. “I told you the service was shit here.”

“No, I mean _you_ ,” You clarified. “Why did you do that? You didn’t have to be rude to her; it’s not her fault the glass was dirty.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, it is. It’s her job to make sure I don’t get dirty dishes, calm down,” Brian said dismissively.

“No,” You said, feeling your face, chest, and shoulders start to grow out hot out of annoyance. “It’s the dishwasher’s job to make sure you don’t get dirty dishes. And the waitress didn’t make your drink, either; the bartender did. Her job was to ferry the drink from the bar to the table, which she did. You might have even smudged it yourself! It could have been the grease from your cheese fries, for all I know. Despite the fact that you're mad at the wrong person, you didn’t have to be an ass either way.”

He rolled his eyes. “Look, we were having a good time. Can you just drop it?”

“No!” You said.

A manager in a suit arrived at the table, a chubby, sandy-haired minotaur with fur to match, brushed straight and shiny. His eyes were brown with odd yellow flecks and his wide nose a darker tan than his fur. His name tag said “Duffy.”

“Is there a problem, sir?” He asked. His voice was higher pitched than you expected. He’d be a tenor if he sang. You suddenly wondered if he did sing.

“Yeah, your staff is serving customers with dirty dishes,” Brian snapped. “Do you not have a functioning dishwasher in this place? You know I could report you to the health department for shit like that.”

“I’m very sorry, sir. I’ll happily comp your drinks for the rest of the evening, if that would help.”

“As long as they’re in clean glasses, sure,” Brian sniffed. The manager nodded and walked away.

“See?” Brian said smugly. “I got us free drinks out of it.”

“He comped your drink to shut you up, idiot,” You said. “Do you have any idea how much shit these people have to deal with on a day-to-day basis? They know the easiest way to get people like you off their backs is to give you something for free.”

“So what?” Brian said. “This is their job, right?”

“You could do so much better for yourself in the long run if you took a second to take people’s feelings into consideration.”

“They’re service people and strangers I‘ve never met. Why should I give a shit about their feelings?”

All you could do was bite your cheek and shake your head at him. “You’re a piece of work, you know that? I’ll tell you what. I’ll bet you I can get more free shit by being kind to the wait staff than you did by being an asshole. Whoever wins gives the other a hundred bucks _and_ pays the tab.”

He snorted and reached into his wallet. “Fine. Go crazy.” He slapped a hundred dollar bill onto the table. You matched it with a bill from your wallet.

Amanda returned with your tea and Brian’s drink, thankfully in a glass that passed his inspection, and asked, “Are you guys ready to order?”

“The porterhouse, rare, with potatoes and beans,” Brian said, and you glared at him. The porterhouse was the most expensive thing on the menu. He simply smiled at you.

“Okay, and you, miss?” Amanda asked, her notepad at the ready.

It was actually the first time you had looked at the menu. You pursed your lips and searched until you found something suitable.

“Yes, the shrimp scampi, please?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Amanda said, jotting it down. “I’ll have these out to you guys in no time.”

Brian snorted. “We’ll see about that.” And you glared at him harder. Then you smiled placidly.

“Why are you smiling? You haven’t done anything yet,” Brian said, taking a sip from his drink.

“Yes, I have,” You replied. “I just ordered a dish that I’m allergic to.”

“You’re allergic to shrimp?” He asked skeptically.

“Nope, mushrooms. But the menu was slightly smudged and it was hard to see the word ‘mushroom’, which is the kind of thing people like you would miss and then get all bent out of shape about.”

He huffed and folded his arms. “So what’s you’re plan?”

“You’ll see.”

The two of you waited in a sort of stymied silence for about ten minutes later, at which point your food was delivered to the table.

“ _Oh,_ ” You said softly as the plate of noodles and shrimp was placed in front of you. A pile of mushrooms was plainly visible.

“Is something wrong?” Amanda asked, her voice openly anxious.

“Oh, honey, it’s not your fault, I should have read more carefully. I’m allergic to mushrooms.”

“Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Amanda said, hurrying to take the plate from the table. “Can I get you something else?”

“Does the fettucini have mushrooms?” You asked.

“No, ma’am,” Amanda said.

“I’ll have that, then, please. Can I have broccoli on the side?”

“Of course! With butter?”

“Oh, yes, please, thank you so much. I’m sorry to be such a bother,” You said regretfully.

“Oh, not at all, sweetie, let me put that order in for you. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, it’s totally my bad.”

Amanda smiled brightly as she walked off, and you turned back to Brian.

“Well?” He said, holding out his hands expectantly.

“Wait,” I said.

The manager arrived at the table again, looking wary. “I understand there was another problem?”

“Oh, no, it was my fault, really,” You assured him. “I didn’t read the menu correctly and I accidentally ordered something I’m allergic to. It was no one’s fault but mine, honestly.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed. “I’m so sorry. Allow me to comp your meal. Please, it’s the least I can do.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that!” You insisted. “It was totally my mistake.”

“Still, I feel badly that your experience tonight has been so poor. Allow me to make it up. Free dessert as well,” He said. He really was so sweet, though you knew that was part of his job, so you didn't read too much into it.

“Oh… thank you,” you replied, turning so that you were staring directly into Brian’s gaping face when you said flatly, “That’s very _kind_ of you.”

The manager, Duffy, bowed a little and walked away.

“I win,” You said.

“You didn’t win,” Brian countered. “You manipulated them.”

“Being nice is not the same being manipulative,” you said. “If I had genuinely ordered a dish I couldn't eat by accident, that's exactly how I would have reacted, and I wouldn't be manipulating anyone. I'd just be a decent person. And besides, even if it was, people in the service industry catch shit all day long for no other reason than people want to be dicks to them, because people like _you_ think you’re better than people like them. So when someone comes along who’s not a giant asshole over the tiniest mistake, they will do _anything_ to accommodate that person, not just to keep them happy, but for treating them like they’re people and not indentured servants.” You pulled the two hundreds from the table and put them in your pocket. “You can go now.”

“What?” Brian said, appalled.

“The date’s over. Bye.” You picked up you tea and sipped it, leaning back in your seat.

With a stunned look on his face and a self-conscious laugh of disbelief, he stood roughly from the chair and stormed off.

Amanda returned with your new order. “What happened to your date?”

“I told him to hit the bricks,” You said with a grin.

Amanda grinned back. “Good call, if you ask me. He was kind of an ass.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, he was. Hey, can you call the manager over again?”

“Is there something else wrong?” She asked.

“No, no, nothing like that, I just want to thank him again for being so accommodating.”

“Sure thing, honey,” Amanda said, taking away Brian’s plate.

“Thank you.”

You picked up your fork and tucked into your pasta. After a few bites, Duffy walked up.

“Everything alright?” He asked. For the second time, you found yourself thinking how musical his voice was.

“Oh, yes, thank you so much,” You said. You gestured at the seat opposite you. “Would you humor me for a moment and sit down?”

“Uh…” He eyed the chair. “I’m not really supposed to, but…” He took the chair and pulled it out. “I’ve been on my feet for hours.” He sighed with relief as he eased down.

“I have to admit something to you,” You said, pulling out one of the hundred dollar bills. “I kind of played you. I bet the guy I was on a date with that you get more out of being kind than you do being a jerk. I won, but at your expense, and I wanted to apologize and pay for the meal. It’s only fair.” You held out the bill for him to take.

Duffy smiled. “You know what? Keep it. It’s worth it for you to have taught him a lesson like that. You’ve been a sweetheart. That’s so rare.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” You looked him up and down, considering him. “How about this? I’ll take you out for a date with the hundred I won from him. If you’re single and interested, that is.”

He looked immensely surprised. “I… am interested. To be honest, I was kinda thinking you were too good for that guy, anyway. I’d love a date, but maybe not here.” He laughed.

“I do have to point out the irony of a minotaur working at a steakhouse,” You said, laughing.

He chuckled. “I am a walking contradiction.”

“I came for the Italian, anyway. I don’t eat red meat,” you said.

“Really? That’s a shame,” He said suggestively, and you flushed.

“Tch. Bad boy,” You said, and he grinned wickedly.

Then he sighed. “I need to get back to work.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to you. “Put your number in there. I look forward to putting that dickhead’s money to good use.”

“Me too,” you replied, typing in your name and number and handing his phone back. He smiled widely at you and stood, bowing again, and returned to work.

You finished your dinner in peace, and ordered a slice of caramel pie to go with it. When you were finished, Amanda came by to wish you a good night.

“Here, honey,” You said, handing her the second hundred dollar bill, the one you had bet.

“Oh, sweetie, your meal was comped. You don’t have to pay,” She said.

“No, this is your tip,” You told her, motioning for her to take it.

He jaw dropped and she tentatively reached out to take it. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely sure. Please.”

She laughed shakily and thanked you over and over, even giving you a little side hug. You chuckled and headed for the exit.

As you did, you got a buzz from an unknown number and stopped at the door to look at it.

> _I hope you wear that outfit on our date. You look great in it._

You turned and saw Duffy standing in the kitchen doorway, smiling at you with his phone in his hand. He saluted you with it, and you laughed.

Standing where he could see you, you wrote back: > _I look better out of it._

His phone pinged, and he looked at it and choked. Triumphant, you opened the door and walked out into the brisk night air.


End file.
